Walking Dead One Shot stories
by mysticorbes84
Summary: At an indeterminate time after escaping Terminus, the group goes to Woodbury. Carol, welcomed back to the group, has a lot going on and Daryl is there to help her. But friendship morphs into something more. Each Chapter will be a new one shot story. All are set within the same time period at Woodbury.
1. Chapter 1

**This is just a Carol/Daryl one shot story. First fanfic. I hope you enjoy.**

Setting: indeterminate time after Terminus. After escaping Terminus, the group needs to feel safe again. With the Governor gone, Rick decides to check out Woodbury. It was well fortified, and in times like these, shouldn't go to waste. They find a few people there, leftover from the Governors reign. Working together, they've rebuilt the fences and re-established a community. One week has passed.

A successful hunt and the discovery of a few bottles of booze led to a bonfire party. Carol stared into the fire, thoughts of the prison, Mika, and Lizzie running through her mind. No one paid her any attention, too focused on the festivities. Making up her mind, she grabbed a bottle of rum from the cart and headed to the small home she'd been staying at the last week. She didn't notice Daryl get up and follow her.

Inside, she sat down in the living room and took a healthy swig straight from the bottle. The knock on her door made her jump. Before she could get up, Daryl walked in.

"Mind sharin' that?" She handed him the bottle and he sat next to her. "What's goin' on with you? Ain't been yerself since we got here."

"A lot happened while we were separated," she whispered. He took a long swallow, passing it back to her.

"Wanna talk about it?" She took a small sip, fortifying her courage. She didn't want to lose Daryl's friendship, but she needed him to know.

"I'm the one who killed them. Back at the prison." She didn't need to elaborate. He knew who she was referring to.

"I know." She took another swallow, passed the bottle back.

"Some bad things happened. When I was with Tyrese."

"Mika and Lizzie dying," he replied. She nodded.

"But I'm referring to how they died."

"You and Ty said walkers."

"Ty said walkers. I just agreed. But he's not here anymore and I need someone to share this with."

"You know I'll listen."

"Something was wrong with Lizzie. Her mind... Something wasn't right."

"Figured as much. The kid acted strange."

"I think she identified with the walkers, not with humanity. She started to see them as people. I didn't recognize the problem until too late. Thought it was a phase." She paused to take another swallow of rum. "I could have stopped it, Daryl." Tears glistened on her eyelids.

"Stopped what?"

"Lizzie. She needed to convince us that zombies where people. So we'd stop killing them." She stopped, tears clogging her throat. Swallowing hard, she finished. "She cut up Mika. And was about to kill Judith, too. Thank god we got there in time for Judith. By my sweet Mika..." Her voiced trailed off. Daryl wrapped his arm around her, pulling her close. He kissed her forehead.

"Nothin' you coulda done," he stated matter of fact.

"I told Ty that I killed his girlfriend. I was hoping he'd shoot me. I failed my girls, all three of them."

"I'm glad he didn't shoot you," he said into her hair. She swiped at her tears with the back of her hand.

"Yeah, me too. We talked about splitting up. I was gonna take Lizzie. Keep her away from people. But he could never keep a baby safe on his own. No one could. We decided it would be best to just, put her down." Roughly grabbing the bottle, she swallowed a few times before continuing. "I did it. She was my responsibility. I took her to a field, told her to look at the flowers. And shot her."

"Did the right thing. You did what most of the others couldn't do. You're strong, Carol. You did the right thing." She continued to stare at the wall opposite them. Taking her chin in his hand, he turned her face towards his. "You did right," he reassured. Her eyes were mostly clear now. Crying didn't last long these days. You get past it, or you get dead. He meant to release her then. He didn't.

Removing his fingers from her chin, he traced her jaw. In that moment, something changed for them. He wasn't just her friend anymore. He was a desirable male. And she'd been celibate for too long. Closing the gap between their lips, she kissed him.

She heard him sneak out of her place early the next morning. She feigned sleep, not wanting to face the decision they made last night. She stretched, feeling sore in places she hadn't felt sore in a long time. She thought she should regret it, but couldn't bring herself to. She was an adult. He was an adult. And they could both be dead tomorrow. She quickly dressed, knowing chores awaited her and everyone else. This was the world they lived in now.

Three days passed, Carol and Daryl both acting as if nothing had happened between them. She tried to convince herself that it should be a one night thing. No sense messing up their friendship to pursue anything more. But at night, her body ached for him and her dreams betrayed her common sense.

That night at dinner, he was sitting opposite the fire from her, chatting with Glenn. His eyes found hers more than they used to. It was the end of the world, and good men were hard to come by. She decided she wasn't giving him up that easily. The next time his eyes found hers, she nodded toward her place. Standing, she headed there, not glancing back to see if he was following.

She walked into her new home, leaving the door ajar. She heard it click shut a moment later.

"What's up?" He asked, appearing slightly uncomfortable. Without answering, she kissed him. He responded immediately, pulling her close to him.

Some time later, he rose to dress.

"You don't have to leave," Carol told him.

"I know. Just don't want nobody thinking bad of you." He pulled his pants up, zipping while looking for his shirt.

"If they think badly of me, it's their own problem. I'm a grown woman and my husband died a few years ago. Feels like a lifetime ago."

"Was a lifetime ago." He leaned down, gave her a lingering kiss. "Still don't want no one thinking bad of you." With that, he slipped out of her house and into the predawn morning.


	2. Chapter 2

**This is not a continuation of my Caryl one shot story, but instead, another one shot. This is a Richonne story.**

Setting is the same as Caryl one shot. An indeterminate time after Terminus and setting up Woodbury as a new home. This one takes place sometime after the Caryl story.

Rick sat in his living room after a long day, sipping some water. He wished it was a beer in his hand, and that the blank wall across from him was a television playing anything sports related. Sports games were what he missed most. Chucking that idea around inside his head, he started thinking up how to get his people together for a game of football when Michonne walked in.

"Hey, Rick. Where's little man at?" Cocking her ear to the back of the house where the bedrooms were located, she smiled. "Judith asleep?"

"Carl's over at Jimmy's house. He said something about Eugene doing something awesome. I'm not really sure what. He was excited, though. It's been awhile since I've seen him excited. And Beth has Judith at the little nursery she set up." He took another sip of his water, still wishing it were a cold beer. As if reading his mind, Michonne looked at his bottle.

"Bet you wish that was a beer. I know I wish that was a beer. A nice, ice cold beer, to wash the dry Georgia dust outta my mouth." She smiled and slung herself onto the couch next to Rick. He tipped the mouth of the bottle in her direction. She shook her head no.

"Maybe after Eugene does his awesome thing with Carl, we can talk him into brewing some beer? Can't be too hard. I had a friend on the force who used to make his own beer. Tasted like shit, but I'd take a shit beer over no beer." He smiled over at Michonne. Michonne was about to speak when Carl burst through the door.

"Dad! Dad! Guess what?" He ran over and flopped into the chair positioned across from the couch. Panting from his run back home, he smiled at Michonne. "Hey, Michonne!"

"What's up, kid?" Rick prompted.

"Eugene made a solar powered battery charger and Jimmy still has his game boy from before! We collected up all the dead batteries we could find and Eugene has been charging them for us all day!"

Rick smiled. It was real nice to see Carl so happy. "That right?" he asked.

"Yeah, and Jimmy and I are going to stay up all night playing games!"

"Oh, you are?"

"Well, I'm asking if I can. Can I dad? Please?" He looked pleadingly at his father, knowing he'd say yes. When Rick didn't answer he looked over at Michonne. "Come on Michonne, help me out!"

"Can he, Rick? Pllleeeaaassee?" Michonne whined over in Ricks direction. Laughing at their antics, Rick gave in.

"Yeah, yeah. You knew I'd say yes. Don't stay up all night though. This sleep over doesn't get you out of your chores tomorrow. Have fun, kid." With a whoop of joy, Carl ran out of the house, presumably back to Jimmy's.

"Seems to me if a man can charge batteries in this day and age, he can figure out how to make some shitty beer," Michonne murmured, tilting her head toward Rick.

"I'll make sure I ask him about it tomorrow. Little late to do so tonight."

"Plus, I'm sure he's helping drain all those charged batteries with the kids." Rick laughed.

"I'm sure he is." There was a short knock before Beth walked in holding Judith.

"She's sound asleep. Ben and Haley's little boy was over and they played together all day. She should sleep through the night." When Rick went to rise she shooed him back down. "No, you stay. I'll put her down." Beth disappeared into one of the bedrooms, returning a moment later.

"Thanks, Beth. I appreciate it." Beth shrugged

"Everyone has a job to do," she smiled. Giving a small wave, she ducked out of the house.

Looking over at Michonne, Rick asked, "What do you think about getting a football game together? That bonfire last month seemed to do wonders for the spirits. I'm thinking maybe a nice game of touch football."

"Touch football? That so us ladies can join in?" Michonne teased, batting her eye lashes. Rick chuckled.

"No, more so the kids can join in. I know you could take any of us men on if you wanted to." Leaning back into the couch, he turned his head to look over at her. She snuggled in the couch similarly. Faces inches apart, Rick continued smiling over at her. "Thinking of that beer made me think of sports and how I miss a good game."

"You look like you'd be a football fan," Michonne joked. Rick laughed.

"Yeah, well you look like you'd be a football fan, too." Michonne pursed her lips and shook her head.

"Nope. I was a hockey fan." Rick gave a deep belly laugh.

"Oh yeah, I can see you as a hockey fan. You like things rough and bloody, eh?" he teased, trying his best at a Canadian accent. Michonne nudge him in the shoulder, bringing her face just a little closer to his. They looked into each others eyes, the laughter on their lips slowly dying as lust replaced amusement. Rick glanced down at Michonne's lips before meeting her eyes once more. "Probably a bad idea."

"Probably," Michonne agreed. Neither moved. Debating it for another second, Rick closed the distance between them, tentatively kissing her. Her lips smiled under his.

"What?" he asked, a mere breath away.

"Though you said I'd like things rough and bloody?" Rick grinned before going back in with a little more force.

The first time happened fast and hungry on the couch. The second time, Rick led her to the bedroom. They took their time, getting to know each others needs and hungers. After, Michonne laid curled into Rick's side. She sighed heavily, then sat up.

"Where you going?" Rick asked. She pointed to the window of his bedroom where the first rays of dawn could just be seen.

"Almost morning. I'm thinking I should probably go."

"You don't have to."

"What about Carl?" she asked, serious.

"Carl likes you. I think he'd be okay with it."

"And if it doesn't work?" Rick shrugged.

"This is a different world we live in. If it doesn't work, it doesn't work. We just won't let that affect Carl." Michonne considered this.

"I'll think about it." Standing up, she dressed quickly before slipping out of his bedroom. He watched from his window until she entered the house across the street, then drifted off to sleep for a few hours before chores began for the day.


	3. Chapter 3: Summer (Zombie History)

**I do not own TWD or it's characters. Slightly AU, because I disregard the story given for Summer.**

Summer fiddled with her cereal, not interested in eating it.

"Do I have to go to school?" She asked her mom. Her mother glanced over at her.

"Yes, sweetie."

"But people are getting sick. What if I get sick?"

"How do you know people are getting sick?" Her mother asked, concerned. Summer looked down, refusing to answer her mother. "Summer?" Her mother persisted.

"I heard you and dad talking about it," she whispered to her cereal.

"You're not supposed to eavesdrop , Summer."

"I know. I'm sorry." Her eyes stayed glued to her cereal. Her mother sighed, causing Summer to glance up.

"That's far away from here, sweetie," her mother finally stated. "I don't want you to worry about it, okay?" Nodding, Summer ate a bite of her cereal.

"I'm full," she told her mother.

"Go brush your teeth and I'll take you to the bus stop." Summer jumped out of her chair and ran to the bathroom. A few minutes later, she ran back into the kitchen clutching her backpack.

"Ready?" Her mother asked. Nodding, she lead the way out the front door. The bus stop was only a few houses down. Her mother waited with her until the bus came. Giving her forehead a kiss, she whispered, "see you later, sweetie." Summer climbed onto the bus. She waved at her mother from her window seat.

As the bus pulled away, she glanced around her nervously. No one seemed to be sick, but she wasn't sure what to look for. She knew coughing and sneezing could mean someone was sick. No one was coughing or sneezing, so she settled back in her seat waiting for the ride to end. The bus stopped a few more times, picking up various kids. Examining each in turn, Summer determined that no one at her school was sick.

Pulled forward by gravity, she nearly fell off the bench when the bus driver braked suddenly. Righting herself, she peaked over the seat in front of her. There were people in the road, all crowded around something. The driver honked, getting their attention. A few looked up. Standing, they ambled over to the bus. Smacking and clawing, they tried to get on.

Summer looked back at the road. She began to cry as she saw what the people had been gathered around. It was a dog, but it had blood all over it and thick ropes coming out of its torn belly. Scared, she recognized that this was what her parents had talked about the other night. These were the sick people. Other kids around her were crying. A scream pierced the air as the door started to inch open. Summers body slammed into the seat in front of her as the bus shot backward. A taste like pennies filled her mouth, and she swiped a hand across her lip. It came back bloody.

The driver lost control of the bus, causing it to tip over. The back door window shattered. Looking out the front window, Summer saw the sick people coming toward the bus. She didn't want to get sick. Leaving her backpack where it was, she climbed out the back window. Glancing around to get her bearings, she took off running toward her home.

She made it home without running into any more of the sick people. However, upon reaching the locked door, she sat down on the stoop and cried. Her key was in her backpack, which she left on the bus. She wasn't sure how long she sat there crying, but a car engine made her glance up. Her tears stopped as she saw her mothers car pull into the driveway. Jumping out of the car, her mother ran over to her, clutching her arm.

"Oh thank god!" She whispered into Summers hair. Tears of relief drenched Summers blond hair. Straightening, her mother unlocked the front door and ushered her inside, closing and locking the door behind them.

"What's wrong with your arm?" Summer asked. Glancing down at it, her mother rushed her to her bathroom.

"Just a little bite, sweetie." Summers eyes filled tears as her mother began stripping her clothes off, hunting for injuries.

"You can't get sick, momma," Summer cried.

"I won't baby girl. Now get in the shower and wash that blood off." Doing as she was told, Summer washed the dirt and blood off her. When she was finished, her mother was waiting with pjs and her favorite bathrobe. Her arm was bandaged in white. Changing, she flung herself into her mothers arms to cry.

"Shhhh. No need to cry, sweetie. Mommy's fine." Summer let her mother comfort her until her tears ran out. Finally exhausting her tears, she pulled back.

"What are we gonna do?" She asked. Her mother thought for a moment before answering.

"I want you to go pack a bag with some clothes and your tooth brush. We're gonna go on a little trip."

"And get away from the sick people?"

"And get away from the sick people," her mother reassured. Summer quickly packed her Barbie suitcase with clothing. She threw her toothbrush in, as well as some books. Grabbing a stuffed bear from her bed, she clutched it to her chest, waiting for her mother to get her. Moments later, her mother appeared with her own bag. Sweat beaded on her forehead, worrying Summer. Her mommy couldn't get sick.

"Ready sweetie?" Summer nodded. Dragging her Barbie bag, she followed her mother to the front door. She watched as her mother peeked out the window beside the front door. After a moment, she turned to Summer. "I'm gonna take your bag. When I open the door, I want you to run to the car. Hop in and shut the door. Then lock it, okay?"

Summer nodded her understanding. When the door opened, she ran to the car. Opening the door, she jumped in, slamming the door behind her, and pushing the lock down. Her mothers door slammed shut a moment later. Summer screamed when a man started pounding on her window.

"It's okay, baby girl." Her mother had tears in her voice. She put the car in reverse and tore out of the driveway. Putting her seat belt on so she wouldn't fly around the car, Summer glanced out the back window. The man who had been pounding on her window was coming after them. But her mothers car was faster than him, and soon he was no longer visible.

They drove for a long time. Summer was beginning to get bored and wish she could reach the books in her suitcase. But they were in the front seat next to her mother. And her mother was concentrating on the road. Clutching her stuffed animal, Summer watched the trees go by her window.

Sometime later, the car stopped at a gas station. Her mother was sweating badly. She turned around in her seat to speak with Summer.

"I need to get us food, okay? I want you to stay here. Keep the door locked. I'll need you to crawl up here so you can unlock my door when I come back."

Summer nodded, fear tightening her belly into a knot. She crawled into the front seat beside her mother. Her skin was pale, sweat dripping down her face.

"Are you okay, momma?" Summer asked, worried.

"Just worried, baby 'll be fine. Lock the door." With that, her mother got out of the car. Once the door shut, Summer locked it. She watched as her mother slowly swayed across the parking lot. People were running in and out of the store. One ran into her mother, knocking her to the ground. Summer chewed her lip nervously, watching for her mother to get back up. The penny taste filled her mouth again, her lip cut opening back up. Frowning, she tried to figure out what to do. Her mother wasn't getting back up. It didn't even look like she was moving. None of the other people helped her. Gathering her courage, and her stuffed bear, Summer climbed out of the car.

She glanced around her nervously, but didn't see anyone who looked sick. She ran over to her mother.

"Momma," she whispered when she was standing beside her mother. Her mother didn't answer. Her eyes were open and she was staring blindly at the sky. Kneeling down beside her mother, Summer buried her head in her chest.

"Wake up, mommy!" She continued crying, oblivious to the people around her. She heard a groan come from her mother. Smiling, she picked her head up and smiled down at her mother. "Momma?"

Her mother looked at her with white filmed eyes. Then, she leaned up, biting Summer's lip. Screaming in pain, Summer pulled away, pieces of her face torn off into her mothers mouth. Her face felt like it was on fire. Standing, she took off running. Her mother was sick, like all the other people. Finding an overturned box, she climbed in, hiding from the world around her.

Silent tears tracked down her face, burning as they passed over her bite. As much as the tears hurt, she couldn't stop herself from crying. Her mommy was sick and bit her. Now she would get sick.

Later, after sleep had taken her under, she awoke shivering. Her body felt heavy and her head ached. Gingerly, she touched her face. Pain laced through her as her fingers brushed over her bite. Sweat beaded on her forehead. She began to cry. This happened to momma, and now it was happening to her.

Sleep claimed her again. Fevered dreams tormented her, until her heart finally stopped. Waking, she began crawling out of the darkness. A white film blurred her vision. So hungry. Walking unsteadily, she weaved between the cars. So hungry.

A blurry silhouette created a flash of remembrance. Bending down, she picked up the stuffed bear. Crunching sounded behind her.

"Little girl? Little girl?" The sound was muted and foreign. She turned around, the bear still clutched in her fingers. A new, blurry silhouette stood in front of her. So hungry. And this was food. Reaching for it, she began walking toward the food. Distantly, she heard a bang before everything went black.


	4. Chapter 4: Tank Zombie

**I do not own TWD or it's characters.**

"Soldiers up!" the sergeant yelled into the sleeping bunker. Trainees began to stir as sleep slowly dissolved, clearing their mind. Dan sat up slowly, swiping a hand across his eyes. Rubbing the sleep from them, he turned to his neighbor.

"What's going on?" He asked. His neighbor shrugged. Standing, they both got dressed. Once finished, they stood at attention waiting for the sergeant to give instructions.

"You all are shipping out to the city. We need more body's then we got out there, so you untrained nothing's will be helping. You do what you're told and stay out of the way. Got it?"

"Sir yes sir!" They all responded in unison.

"Clear out!" They all filed out of the large tent and into a truck. Other raw recruits were with them. Dan glanced around, seeing the unease as if it were a mist rising off the shoulders of his fellow soldiers. The truck rumbled into life, jerking them all slightly as it started the drive toward Atlanta.

"You have any idea what's going on?" he asked the guy sitting beside him.

"Last I heard, there was some sort of plague making it's way through Atlanta," the stocky man answered.

"Then why are we going? I don't know anything about medicine."

"Crowd control most like. Heard this plague makes people crazy, like they're on PCP or something. They start attacking people, even their own family."

"Shit, man. Is it contagious?"

"Yep. Spreading like wildfire, from what I hear."

Dan chewed on lip as they trucked bounced on down the road. Nerves ate at him. Give him a man and a gun, and he can defend himself and his country. But sick people? How were they supposed to handle sick people? The trip was uneventful, but all too short. Before Dan had his nerves calmed, the back of the truck was flung open and the recruits were ushered out. Jumping out, the men lined up, waiting for further instructions.

"Anderson! Beckett! Carlson! Franklin! Squad A. Follow Cooper here for further orders." The men called filed out. This continued, working it's way through the alphabet. Dans group was near the end of the list. "Smith! Stone! Starlin! Tucker! Squad J. Follow Jones here for further orders."

Dan and the others in his group followed Jones over to a new group. The soldiers here were all experienced, and from various branches of the armed services. Joining the ranks, Dan waited until whoever was in charge handed out instructions. Finally, a tall, broad shouldered man with greying hair stepped to the front.

"Alright men. Each of you choose a raw recruit. Fill them in. We head out in 10." No introductions. No information. Worried, Dan looked around him, seeing an experienced soldier standing at his side.

"Name's Jim Georgeson. You're with me. I don't know how much information you've been given, but I'll break it down nice and sweet for you. There is a disease going around. If you got it, you're dead. If you come across anyone who has it, approach with care. We are to contain if possible until transportation to the CDC arrives. If things get out of hand, orders are to shoot to kill. Do not get bit. If you get bit, you will become infected. Our unit has 20 ground troops and 1 tank with 2 people inside. Questions?"

Not sure where to begin, Dan simply shook his head. Shoot to kill? Did they really have shoot to kill orders? It didn't seem possible, but he'd deal with when the situation arose.

"Squad J move!" His squad all loaded into a truck and he bounced on the seat as they traveled through the streets of Atlanta. Having never been to Atlanta before, Dan was quickly lost. Behind their truck was the tank Georgeson told him about. Around them, people were running. A few bodies were in the gutter of the street. One had a knife in it's forehead. The truck stopped and the men jumped out.

"With me," his partner stated. Following, Dan jogged behind Georgeson. Rounding a corner, they came upon a small group of infected people. A body was in the street, and three others surrounded it, pulling intestines out of the gaping hole of the body and into the gaping hole of their mouth. Feeling vomit rise up the back of his throat, Dan swallowed hard. Georgeson raised his gun, pointing it at the people. Following his lead, Dan raised his own.

"I'm gonna need you people to come with us!" Georgeson shouted. Three pairs of white filmed eyes locked onto the soldiers. Slowly, crawling onto their feet, the people began to lumber toward them. Georgeson began to back away, leading the group toward the truck. Keeping an eye on the surroundings, Dan noticed another person sick with disease lumber out of an alley.

"Another infect, 9 o'clock," he stated, informing Georgeson of the position of the new arrival. Their small group swelled. First 3, then 4, then 10 sick citizens were lumbering after them. Growls and hands reaching out to the soldiers. Dan began to feel uneasy. There were too many of them. Turning around to check on their progress, he saw 3 members of his squad crawling on top of the truck. More and more of the sick citizens they were attempting to round up closed in around the truck. The walkie on his shoulder chirped.

"Got a situation!" Dan didn't recognize the voice.

"Take over." Dan stepped forward and took Georgeson position, leading the growing group of sick citizens. "Fuck me!" The walkie chirped again. This time, it was Georgeson's voice coming through. And eery echo of the walkie and Georgeson himself swallowed up Dan. That, and the ever present growling and moaning of the sick. Dread settled like a lead weight in his belly.

"Shoot to kill!" Georgeson gave the order. Gun shots rang out behind Dan. Sucking in a breath, and drawing up his courage, he pulled the trigger on his gun. The bullet punched into the leading sick man, directly center of mass. He saw the body rock back slightly on impact. No bleeding came through the hole, and the man continued his march forward. He saw others impact with bullets, and he knew Georgeson was shooting from behind him. Pulling the trigger again and again, he shot the same man 5 times. Still, no stopping. The man wasn't dying! Changing tactics, he shot the man dead center of his forehead. The citizen dropped. He used this tactic on 3 others before screams of agony from behind him drew his attention. Turning, he saw 4 of the sick citizens pull Georgeson to the ground. Blood spurted as teeth ripped into his arms and neck. Dan shot until his gun clicked empty.

More of the sick citizens were crowding around. The truck was tipped onto its side, the men being eaten alive on the ground beside it. Seeing the tank, Dan made a run for it. Climbing on top, he pounded on the hatch.

"Let me in! Please! I'm the only one left alive out here!" He screamed in desperation. The hatch swung open and Dan jumped in. The hatch slammed shut. A man he didn't recognize was clutching his leg. Dan could see blood oozing between the mans fingers.

"What happened?" he asked.

"One of those fuckers got me," he said between his teeth. His body vibrated with adrenaline. Blood continued to seep through his fingers. Dan swallowed hard, and looked around. He'd never been in a tank before.

"You know how to drive this thing?" Dan asked. Thumps were coming from all sides and the tank swayed slightly. The sick citizens were piling up.

"Yeah, but I can't drive. I'll talk you through it." With the injured mans guidance, Dan got the tank started and slowly drove away, plowing over any of the citizens who got in the way. He couldn't remember how to get back to headquarters, or how to get out of the city. His plan was to drive until the streets were clear, then figure things out. Cruising along, instructions for driving were unnecessary so he allowed the injured man to rest. He was unsure how far they had traveled, but the streets around them were clear in every direction he could look.

"How do I stop?" he asked. No answer. "Hey! Wake up, man, and tell me how to stop!" Dan shouted, trying to rouse the injured man. A low growl and a breath of rancid breath on his left ear warned him a minute too late. Pain laced through his body as the injured man took a large bite out of his neck. A scream filled Dan's mouth. Reaching for his gun, he remembered it was empty. Grabbing the knife in his boot instead, he shoved it into the mans eye.

Weakness erupted across his body as blood swept out of him. He opened the hatch in the floor, intending to crawl out. Once it was open, he knew there was no point. Weakness was pulling him under. Sliding back, he sat against the side of the tank and allowed death to take him. He thought of his mother and father, hoping they were okay. They lived in the country. They were sure to be far away from this plague. Death carried him under.

Waking, he blinked at the world around him. A world hazed in white greeted him. Hungry. Looking around, he saw nothing that looked like food. Low growls and moans erupted from a numb throat. The sounds were far away. Leaning back into the tank, he waited.

Loud blasts alerted him to possible food. Glancing around, he saw nothing. But he could hear it. So hungry. He felt the tank rock. Not food. His eyes closed as he waited for food. So hungry. He vaguely felt a thump against his chest. Opening his eyes, a filmy silhouette of hair filled his vision. Food. Hungry. Opening his mouth, he leaned forward, a moan escaping his lips. The silhouette jumped back and raised a hand. A loud bang ended everything.

* * *

_A/N: I know absolutely nothing about the military or how things work, so titles and activity may be incorrect. But I really liked this zombie! He stood out to me the first time I watched TWD and I've wanted to write his story ever since. Hope you enjoyed!_


End file.
